Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Isabelle
I’m eating a fruit platter beside the pool and watching the yachts sailing on the ocean.
The brightly colored sails wave in the distance as the yachts tack back and forth.
It reminds me of a bird’s mating dance. All I can hear is the waves pounding on the beach.
It’s a peaceful but hot day and the breeze coming from the ocean is delightful.
I jump at the sound of footsteps and a slam of the glass door leading to the pool.
I turn as Linc bends and closes his hand around my arm, pulling me to my feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m taking you down to my studio where we can talk in private.” Linc’s angry expression makes my heart race. “Not a word, Izzy. Not one damn word.”
I hate it when he calls me Izzy. “Okay, let go of my arm. There have been paparazzi out on the ocean. Do you want accusations of spousal abuse all over the front page tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so.” He chuckles.
Without warning he pulls me to him and kisses me passionately.
His warm lips move over mine and along my chin as his scent engulfs me.
I’m breathless, dizzy. He always has the same effect on me even after all these years, and when he takes my hand, I follow him without a word back through the house and downstairs into his studio.
His anger returns as we walk into the soundproof recording booth.
His kiss wasn’t real. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind.
It was just another one of his stage tricks—the other side of the coin. The man I lost to an audience.
I put my hands on my hips and stare at him. “What?”
“Why did you employ Alani to write your memoirs?” Linc paces up and down the small area. “You didn’t even bother to show me the contract before you signed it. Did you include a confidentiality clause this time?”
I’ve never bothered about contracts. That’s what I pay my agent for, but up to now any movie offers I give to Linc to read before I sign. “I didn’t think either of the contracts I signed with the ghostwriters was any of your concern. It’s my memoirs after all and I decide what goes in the book.”
“Are you aware that Alani writes columns for a number of prominent publications?” Linc runs a hand through his tousled hair.
“And you’ve made no provision in the contract to prevent her from spilling her guts to them about our private lives.
” He stops pacing and glares at me. “I wonder sometimes if you are in your right mind. What idiot tells a reporter about the ‘Black Valentine’ murder? Have you any idea how much money I paid the media to crush reports on that story? It doesn’t matter that I’m innocent, it’s the conspiracies that go with it.
Some people already believe that I took a private jet or a chopper to the murder scene, killed that poor woman and then went back on stage as if nothing had happened.
” He turns to look at me, his eyes tragic.
“How do you think that makes me feel? Now she’s going to dig it all up again—and we can’t stop her.
She records all the sessions with you and we won’t have a leg to stand on.
” He stares at the ceiling panting and then lowers his gaze to me.
“It’s about time you stopped thinking about yourself all the time and remembered that we’re a family.
Who else are you going to try and destroy to sell your damn book? Lucas or Mia?”
I swallow the fear creeping up the back of my throat. I’ve never seen him angry like this. “She asked me for a sensational story and it’s the only thing I could think of.”
“But it’s not your story, is it?” Linc slams his fist down on the counter. “It’s my story. I was on tour and never a part of what happened that night. Maybe it’s time I told her what really happened.”